


The spaces between my fingers

by falling_awake



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BoFA, Goes AU after BoFA, M/M, Why do I do this to myself, definitely not a fix-it, joining the list of my durinbro feelings, this is gonna hurt guys, wahhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:24:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falling_awake/pseuds/falling_awake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili had been raised knowing he was heir apparent, and that one day he would take the throne. Somehow he hadn't quite realized it until it was too late and he was deep in the thrall of battle at the base of their newly reclaimed mountain.</p>
<p>In other words, AU where Fili becomes King-Under-The-Mountain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The spaces between my fingers

The night before the battle seeps through the halls of Erebor like a thief, moonlight pooling where it could in long forsaken archer’s battlements and the soft glow of torchlight upon gold the only light they had. It was enough though, enough for Fili to grab his brother and drag him away from the bawdy goldhungering troupe that stayed at Thorin’s side. There’s something uneasy there, something that has Fili forsaking all but the simple things he’s plucked free. They were unimportant after all, what good would gold do if they didn’t survive the armies that railed at the old doors of the mountain? 

Fili doesn’t speak of his worries to anybody but Kili as they steal away from camp and lay in a room that was still mostly intact. There’s so much here, so much wealth and glory that he doesn’t know how to deal with it after spending his whole life living job to job, sometimes with long stretches between when there was little to fill their bellies. Maybe that’s why both brothers are not swept in the gold fever, they’ve lived with other things in a higher stature, family, food, the warmth of laughter and sleepy kisses. 

_Yes_ , he thinks as he cradles Kili’s face in his hands and presses kiss after kiss to the curve of his smile. _This is what’s most important._

“Stop thinking so hard, Fili.” Kili laughs, all the childish belief in himself and his brother bubbling up and settling in his voice, “We’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

There’s a hand tangling in the soft gold of his hair, braids caught and tugged as Kili leans up and presses their lips together, murmurs against his mouth. 

“We’ll fight and win and make Erebor glorious once more.” Another kiss, lingering and warm, “And one day Thorin will step down and you’ll find your place at the throne, golden and perfect like it was always meant for you. And I’ll look up at you and be proud to call you my king.”

“As if you would think anything but.” Fili can’t help the tease, laughter in his voice even as he tips his head into the mouth lingering at his jaw, pressing kisses down the line of his throat. Kili had always been wordy at times like this, until his voice failed him and there’s just breathless little sounds, needy and beautiful despite it all. But for now, all Fili has to focus on are the hands in his hair and the mouth at his neck and it’s _perfect_. He would trade all the gold in Erebor for this, sell the Arkenstone itself just to keep his brother in his arms forevermore. 

Was this how Bilbo felt as he stole away the heart of the mountain? If so, how could Fili blame him for the treachery Thorin had screeched about? Not when he had Kili in his arms and his heart trembled behind his ribs with barely concealed affection. That’s all he can think about as he presses Kili back into the bed, slides hands over skin and bites at the turn of his jaw, the jut of hipbone. Fili was possessive, it’s true, and sometimes he thinks it funny how the gold fever seems as if to fall away as easily as drops of water from a duck’s feathers as they clutch at each other. 

In the end it’s with something like quiet contentment that they cuddle in the afterglow. Fili pressing sloppy kisses to the line of his brother’s shoulder, nosing at the mass of hair that spills about him like a halo. 

“That’s goin’ to get in the way,” it’s a fond murmur, lips tickling at Kili’s nape. “Let me braid it for you.”

“You know they get caught,” Kili laughs, turning in his brother’s arms to rub their noses together and press forehead to forehead gently. “I’d rather not have to untangle my braids from my bow in the middle of a battle.”

But Kili’s fingers soothing along Fili’s cheekbones are soft, and he smiles as if he’s protesting simply for the sake of it. It’s something that happens only once every blue moon and Fili jumps at the chance, smiling and pressing their mouths together happily.

“I’ll be careful, Kili.” He murmurs against the smile at his brother’s lips, “Let me take care of you.”

The look he receives steals his breath away, all quiet intensity and slow burning thought. It reminds him of hazy summers spent hunting in the woods surrounding Ered Luin, of the heat of a forge and Kili laughing as he pushed sweaty lank hair out of his eyes and left streaks of dirt and ash instead. It’s oddly like coming home, and the corners of Kili’s eyes crinkling up in a smile tells Fili that he knows it well. There’s a slip of pink, Kili’s tongue darting out to lick his lips as he smiles and murmurs in a voice still throaty and raw despite it’s playfulness, “As you wish, _my king._ ”

They shift, limbs untwining and forms moving until they’re back to chest, Fili’s legs hemming in Kili’s slightly longer ones. For all the frantic touches they’d pressed to each other’s skin, this is a comfort Fili drinks in. They will run headlong into battle before long, a small company of thirteen dwarrow men against a greater force, and cold dread coils in his belly. He can’t find it in him to fight the feeling that they’re running to their deaths. But for now there’s hands entwined with his, and the warm press of Kili’s back against his chest and Fili simply settles down, pressing fond kisses to skin as they drift off in a decaying room in the middle of their reclaimed mountain.

He can think about it in the morning, when sleep doesn’t seep at the edges of his mind like the tide coming home to embrace the shore.


End file.
